Page 34 of Alpha Varsity

I shake my head. “No.”

He lifts his brows. “Want to talk about it?”

I look away, scanning my buddies on the field. “No.”

“Asher, you’re more than this. You don’t have to fit in the hole this town wants to put you in. I’ve been telling you, a football scholarship to ASU is still possible. Maybe even UCLA. Their scout was watching you. But not if you’re getting yourself suspended. And not if you knock a she-wolf up.”

“I know, Coach. I’m sorry.”

“That’s nice, but I don’t need your apology, Asher. You need to figure out who you really owe an apology to.”

I shake my head as he stalks away, not wanting to analyze the puzzle he dropped. But like all the mind-wedgies he inflicts on the team, I’m sure I’ll be working it out over the next few weeks.

Well, I’m sure as hell not going to apologize to Lotta if that’s what he meant.

The best that female will ever get from me will be a rough fuck and a slap on the ass.

Chapter Eleven

Lotta

I sit on Dr. Oakley’s examination table and scroll through Instagram. I haven’t posted a new painting in a month, but my channel is full of wolf paintings. If the pack knew I was putting these up for the world to see, Alpha Green and the other elders would freak. Our species is careful about hiding our secret. Understandably.

The U.S. Government knows we exist–just like they know alien life exists and has visited Earth. Some say they keep a record of packs and their members in America. I don’t know whether that’s true. I do know there have been shifters who have been snatched and subjected to grievous testing, and government-funded experimentation. I’ve also heard there are special ops teams in the U.S. military that consist entirely of shifters. Kind of like Navy SEALs 2.0.

Regardless, one of the primary pack rules is to hide our existence from other humans. So me posting canvas after canvas of the larger-than-life-sized wolves I paint would be frowned on. Especially the ones that show an overlay of ahuman on the wolf. The meaning might be too obvious, even to a human.

My favorite art professor, Ann Sweetling, thought I was depicting a person’s inner wolf spirit or animal spirit guide. That’s the angle I play up on my Instagram page, and I’ve sold a number of the paintings. I guess a lot of those woo-woo people out there think they have a wolf animal spirit.

If only they knew what it’s like to actually be run by your wolf.

Just thinking of my other side makes me break out in a sweat.

A light tap sounds on the door, and Dr. Oakley and his female assistant, Melinda, enter.

“Carlotta,” Dr. Oakley says warmly. “I’d heard you were back. It’s good to see you.” He takes a quick sweep of my body before meeting my eyes. “You’re looking…are you feeling all right?”

I glance at Melinda. Her daughter is a friend of mine–we graduated from Wolf Ridge the same year. The trouble with small towns is that your business becomes everyone’s business in about four hours.

“Melinda is here so you feel comfortable with any examination I conduct, and by law, everything we discuss in this room is confidential. You’re an adult, which means we can’t discuss anything with your parents or anyone else without your consent.”

I nod and draw a breath. “To be honest, the full moon kicked my butt. I hadn’t shifted since I left for college, and this feels like a second puberty or transition.”

“Check her blood pressure,” he directs Melinda, who jumps into action.

“You suppressed your wolf the entire time you were away?” To his credit, he covers his surprise fairly quickly.

“Yes.”

“Did that cause any adverse symptoms?”

“Loss of appetite and energy. Some hair loss. Low-level depression. But after about nine months, I got used to it.”

“Nine months is a long time to be feeling unwell. That must’ve been hard on you.”

It’s been so long, but his sympathy brings back that intense loneliness I suffered. The grief over my parents’ abandonment was made even harder by the grief from my wolf.

Melinda reads off my blood pressure, but the numbers mean nothing to me. Shifters don’t need doctors except for birth control or massive trauma. The last time I saw Dr. Oakley was as a freshman in high school to get on birth control for the full moon runs.

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